


Worth Every Moment

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-VoE.  Laurence/Tharkay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Every Moment

**Author's Note:**

> A bajillion thanks to kristin for being a fantastic, efficient, and encouraging beta! You're awesome, and I love you. Awkwardly so.
> 
> Written for CL Finn

 

 

"Then I am glad we shall be shipmates," Laurence finally said, the faintest hint of color showing on his cheeks, but he appeared more pleased than horrified by the shock of having a familiar face onboard--so perhaps he didn't quite perceive what Tharkay meant by it.   

For a moment, Tharkay regarded Laurence with a sense of mingled irritation and disappointment.  Perhaps a part of him wanted Laurence to realize the reason behind such a decision-- to ride a prison ship bound for a desolate country for what seemed to Tharkay an incredible amount of time in one confined area-- but as soon as the thought registered, he immediately dismissed it.  Laurence would be far more preoccupied these next few days, or perhaps weeks, with the sight of England growing smaller and smaller with each passing hour.  Tharkay assumed Laurence had only thought it something like wanderlust, and would not have dwelled on it for more than a minute.   

Left to his own devices, Tharkay went below deck to his cabin, a modest space made tiny by the heavy canvas wall to divide it.  His neighbors were three of the aviators, all polite and friendly in their manners, though they had a habit of joking loudly with each other with no conscious thought of the hour.  Tharkay did not mind them so much, but the same could not be said for his kestrel, whose feathers had become permanently ruffled in agitation.   

"You can hardly lay the blame me," Tharkay told Deniz, "You're the one who came back after I'd let you loose."   

 Though hooded on its small perch, the kestrel turned to him in a very disgruntled way.  Tharkay could well imagine the baleful and accusing glare the bird was giving him.  The _Allegiance_ suddenly shuddered from above and he could hear the deep hum of Temeraire's voice followed by another that sounded suspiciously like Iskierka.  With a quizzical frown, Tharkay stood to go back on deck, but not before glancing back at Deniz with a rueful smile.   

"Well, as if I'm one to talk," he admitted quietly, "I suppose you've only picked up the habit from me," and left the cabin.   

* 

 

It was not so hard to figure out the inner workings of Iskierka's mind, but it never ceased to amaze Tharkay on how far she would go to get her way.  He nearly laughed at the idea; any offspring made from Temeraire and Iskierka would be an incredible force to deal with, even without the combination of fire and divine wind.  Armed with two cups and a bottle of rum, Tharkay sat down next to Granby and offered the aviator a glass.   

"Thank you," Granby said, pouring himself a generous amount.  He finished it off before Tharkay could start on his, but that was how it usually went when Iskierka had a turn of mind, which happened all too frequently back in England.  After working -- if it could be called working; it was more like minding very large and violent children -- with her and the ferals, Tharkay and Granby had become very good friends, often drawn together by exasperation and a sort of underlying frustration, though Tharkay knew Granby would never admit it out loud in front of Iskierka.  They lapsed into silence, watching the sleeping dragon, and from across the dragon deck there were faint snatches of _Principia Mathematica_ being read by Laurence.   

"I didn't know you were going to New South Wales as well," Granby said suddenly after his third cup, but before Tharkay could answer, he quickly shook his head, "Oh, of course.  I shouldn't be surprised."   

Tharkay shrugged, "You know I can hardly stand being in England."   

"Yes," Granby agreed, too familiar with Tharkay to take any offense, "Because Laurence would not be there.  It makes sense that you should follow him."   

Rarely ever taken by complete surprise, Tharkay allowed himself a minute to stare, but Granby was not yet slurring his words despite the fact that the bottle was now half empty.  It had taken Tharkay the better part of the last year to finally come to terms with himself, but to have someone say it so plainly to his face was jarring.  There was something very unnerving about the bluntness of Granby's words, as if he was just pointing out a well-known fact, and Tharkay sincerely hoped that _this_ certain fact was as far away from being known as possible.  He could care less about what other people assumed about him, except _this._     

"I'm sorry.  Did that land like a fifty-ton Regal Copper?" Granby asked, somewhat apologetically.   

"A flock of Regal Coppers, actually," Tharkay finally said.  He couldn't see the point of denying it, especially when Granby did not seem so disgusted or bothered.  There was also a matter of trust he had for the man that came with their friendship.  "I am not accustomed to being so transparent."   

"You aren't," Granby assured in tones that did not hold much conviction, "Er- not so much, at least.  It's only that-- and I hope that I am not being too presumptuous--but I did sort of notice over time... Well, not at all when you are around Laurence, but more when you are _with_ him," finished Granby.  His vague explanation seemed proof that he had indeed consumed half a bottle of rum.   

Tharkay frowned slightly, half tempted to shrug it off or pursue the issue further, "If what you say is true, then Laurence--"   

"There are very few men I admire more than him," Granby interrupted, setting the bottle down with a little wobble, "But, Tharkay, you would need nothing short of an enormous flag waving in the wind for him to see it."   

And that, Tharkay decided, was precisely the problem.   

* 

 

The first week of the voyage passed more slowly than Tharkay had expected.  He had spent most of his time discreetly exploring the lower decks of the transport only to discover nothing but miserable prisoners and dirty cells filled with a nearly unbearable stench.  The dragon deck was slightly better, so long as he kept out of anyone's way.  Tharkay did not usually travel by sea, particularly long voyages, and he was pleased by the new experience, but by the end of the second week he was seriously wondering what the hell he would do with himself for the next seven months.    

What made matters worse was the knowledge that Laurence was deliberately avoiding him.  At first, he assumed that his emotions were being a fickle, easily hurt with the lack of attention, as embarrassing as that was.  Laurence barely had any time for himself as it was; because of his unique pseudo-prisoner rank, he was kept mostly in his tiny cabin and could only come outside for a couple of hours to reassure Temeraire of his condition and then every other day for a short flight as exercise.     

But when Tharkay had tried talking with Laurence, the man was so plainly uncomfortable that Tharkay withdrew soon after.  He doubted that Granby had said a word to him, and so he figured that Laurence was still smarting about the _incident_ back in England.     

There was nothing Tharkay could do but wait it out, and hope that it wouldn't take the whole voyage--else he would have to nudge things along again.       
  


* * *

 

Deep in thought, Laurence sat back against Temeraire, absently stroking the glossy black scales.  Temeraire had long ago perceived Laurence's reluctance to talk with Tharkay.  After inquiring tentatively if Tharkay had done something to wrong him, Laurence quickly told him about the day Tharkay had calmly-- and without remorse-- beat some sense into his head back in England, and that he was grateful for it.   

Temeraire looked at him, a little bemused, "Well, Tharkay has an odd way of doing things, but ought you at least talk to him or say thank you?"   

And it was at that moment Laurence realized that he was practically fleeing back down to his cabin whenever Tharkay came up, and involuntarily doing nearly all he could to avoid the other man.  Ashamed, he put a stop to his evasions, though he could not wrap his mind around the reason why he had done so in the first place, other than having a strong sense of embarrassment.  Once he and Temeraire had finished their morning flight, Laurence stayed on deck to look for Tharkay and found him at the railings.   

"May I have a word?"   

Tharkay had been watching his kestrel fly about the _Allegiance_ , much to the disgruntlement of the crew.  He turned towards him, expression vaguely curious and not the least bit unfriendly, though Laurence thought he deserved a lesser greeting.   

"Of course," Tharkay replied.   

Laurence had silently rehearsed what to say before he came, but as he opened his mouth, he realized that it would only sound awkwardly verbose and hollow.  There was no sense in dragging it out, and so he abandoned his careful speech and simply said, "I apologize for how wretchedly late this is, but I wanted to thank you for--for what you did, back in England."   

Tharkay nodded, and if Laurence knew any better, he would have thought that Tharkay had been expecting it.   

"I only asked you a simple question," he said, smiling slightly, "I'm afraid you did the rest yourself."   

Laurence paused, knowing this to be entirely untrue.  He was about to argue the point, but Tharkay shifted a little on his feet and Laurence suddenly saw the uneasiness in his stance; Tharkay must have been a bit embarrassed himself.   

"Well, nevertheless, I want to thank you all the same," Laurence finished instead, and held out his hand.   

Tharkay's grip was as sincere as the first time they shook hands, but he did not take it with the same jaunty air.    

And despite his smile, his voice was all seriousness, "You're welcome, Laurence."   

  

***

    
 

It was early morning when Laurence came out with his harness straps neatly folded over his shoulder to accompany Temeraire on their morning flight.  "Are you ready, my dear?" he asked.   

"I am," Temeraire said, giving him a gentle nuzzle.  His gazed flicked to one side and, turning, he said, "Good morning, Tharkay," when the other man came up from his cabin with a pair of carabiners.   

"Hello," Tharkay greeted, showing an unusual amount of cheer for a man of his disposition.  After three months out in the open ocean, Tharkay was discovered to be somewhat disagreeable with long sea voyages, having grown agitated and extremely sarcastic with each dragging day after the first month.  Unknown to him, Riley had been forced to call up Granby, who relayed to Laurence that Tharkay could possibly use some fresh air.    

"I would take him up myself, but that would be sure to cause a stir; Iskierka is not one for early mornings," Granby had said, too innocently to give the excuse any real merit. 

  Though puzzled by Granby's airy explanation, Laurence had agreed, naturally disposed to heed Riley's indirect order, but he wouldn't have protested anyway upon hearing that Tharkay had been caught with his kestrel swinging comfortably from the foremast despite the strong and dangerous winds that day presented.    

  "I do not mean to impose; it was good of you to invite me," Tharkay went on, easily insinuating that he was not wholly ignorant of the disturbance he was causing for some of the crewmen. 

"Think nothing of it.  I suppose we are doing everyone a favor," Laurence returned evenly, but he was smiling. 

  "Granby and Iskierka take the others up all the time; I don't see why we can't do a fair share of the work," Temeraire said, tactfully leaving out that not all the aviators were enthusiastic to ride with them anyway.  

"And are you implying that I am as restless as twenty grounded aviators?" Tharkay asked in mock offense.  Temeraire snorted, being one of many to have seen Lord Purbeck nearly shouting himself purple for Tharkay to come down from the high shrouds above the forecastle.   

"Not at all," Laurence said quickly, and spoiled the moment by adding, "Without a doubt; none of the twenty aviators have resorted to climbing all over the ship's ropes," and gave a meaningful glance that was met with a careless shrug. 

Temeraire waited patiently for them to get their straps in order; they did not want to rouse the ground crew for a simple flight.  As they got ready, Laurence glanced anxiously at Temeraire, wondering if he minded the extra passenger.  Laurence had privately asked the day before if it was all right, and while he knew Temeraire liked Tharkay well enough, there was an unspoken understanding between the crew-- and even with Laurence's guards and Iskierka, who was inclined to follow Temeriare around and pester him about an egg-- that some flights were done alone, just the two of them. 

But in the end, Temeraire only appeared eager to get the flight underway.   He lifted them upon his back and at a word from Laurence, he took to the early morning skies. 

  

***

Temeraire had caught two modest tunnies and a large swordfish.  He was finishing the last of it as they were flying back to the _Allegiance_.  Laurence was only allowed two hours of flight at a time on open sea, and they were nearing their limit by half an hour.  Still, Temeraire flew at an easy pace in no great hurry.  Captain Riley was inclined to be lenient if they were a couple of minutes late, though Laurence never tested it beyond ten-- much to Temeraire's disappointment.  

Laurence had been consulting the compass strapped to his wrist; he patted Temeraire on the neck and corrected their direction.  Tharkay, thoughtfully withdrawn in the past hour, made amends by sitting at the rear so that Laurence and Temeraire could converse; he did not seem to mind, and was more focused with staring at the ocean or sky.  He was now clambering back in front, having spotted the nearing _Allegiance_.  Laurence moved aside to make room for him at the base of Temeraire's neck. 

Tharkay appeared less tense, but there was still a faint wrinkle on his brow.  For a man used to traveling across mountains, deserts, and God knows where else, Laurence assumed that being on a ship, even an enormous one such as the _Allegiance_ , would be much like being trapped or holed up in a cave for Tharkay. "Are you feeling any better?" Laurence asked. 

  "I am much improved, I assure you," Tharkay said with a faint quirk at the side of his mouth, "I did not think the voyage would have taken a toll on my temper."   

"Well, you were hardly unmanageable," Temeraire said, then grumbled, "Not like Iskierka.  At least you did not try to set the deck on fire."   

"Ah, not much worse than Iskierka then," Tharkay said, "I am thoroughly relieved."   

Laurence checked back his laughter, not wanting to encourage Temeraire.  Putting her energetic spirit into consideration, Iskierka was doing tolerably well, especially with Granby keeping her busy with long flights during the afternoons.   

Tharkay glanced at Laurence, amused, "It was all worth it though."   

As he said this, wholly earnest and unperturbed, there was something in his gaze that in intrigued Laurence, yet at the same time, compelled him to laugh away the subject, or avoid speaking completely.  Fighting back the irrational urge to turn away, Laurence smiled, and said lightly, "What?  Do you mean going to Terra Australis?  I'm absolutely certain there will be more than a fair share of adventure for you."   

Tharkay paused, a flash of uncertainly crossing his features before it disappeared into a wry grin. "Well, yes, that too.  But Laurence, what I meant was, guiding you from China to Istanbul, then more or less blundering all the way to Danzig, herding and negotiating back ferals, returning to England, accepting a commission as a captain, and now going halfway around the world on a prison ship for seven months," he said, steadily looking at Laurence, then repeated, "All of that; it was worth every moment."   

If the sky had cracked through the center and fell to pieces before him, Laurence could scarcely be more stunned.  He felt himself flush, and was unable to say anything, for he could not decide with what he was most surprised with; how he had been so oblivious, or that Tharkay was--   

"--And Laurence," Tharkay added, "that is as close as I can get without confessing to such a thing, aside from-- " and he suddenly leaned forward to press their lips together.   

The kiss was entirely awkward; the abruptness of it, teeth clacking together, hair being blown in the way, and the ever present shifting all around because-- _dear god_ \--they were still flying on Temeraire, but for all the wild thoughts running through his head, Laurence did not pull away.   

When they eventually drew apart, Tharkay was still gripping his arm.  His hand trembled slightly, and he immediately let go.  They stayed silent for a long time.  Save for the spots of color on his cheeks, Tharkay's expression was otherwise composed, "I will not apologize, or beg your pardon, for it will be blatantly deceitful on my part.  But I would be obliged to hear you say _something_."  The last was a poor attempt at dry humor; Tharkay sounded unusually anxious.   

Laurence, breathless, felt the dull pain on his lips where Tharkay's teeth had accidentally collided with.  He could only blurt out the first thing that came to his mind: "Awful," he said bluntly, "The kiss, it was awful."    

Tharkay stared at him, jaw clenching, and Laurence would have nearly leapt off Temeraire in shame.  He hesitated, then reaching out, he pulled Tharkay into a tentative embrace and muttered into his ear, "Awful.  But worth it."   

Tharkay looked completely blank for a moment, and then he smiled, not a hint of his customary smirk, but a genuinely happy smile, "I shall have work on it then."  Laurence grinned. 

  "Does this mean that Tharkay will be flying with us more often?"   

The resonant voice startled them both; they turned quickly, painfully bumping foreheads in the process, and found Temeraire staring at them, his head angled to the side with wide-eyed innocence.   

"If you don't mind," Tharkay replied after he recovered.   

"Oh, god," Laurence said faintly.   

Temeraire regarded them thoughtfully, "So long as you are not at one another all the time, and doing things literally behind my back."   

Tharkay was laughing, and despite his embarrassment, Laurence joined in, ruefully rubbing his forehead and running a hand over his bruised lips.   

"Of course.  We will not be doing anything like that again," Laurence said, blushing.   

"At least, not on _your_ back, Temeraire," Tharkay finished, and tilted to the side to plant a kiss on what would have been Laurence's cheek, if Temeraire had not been suddenly caught in an updraft of wind.  

Ironically enough, it went much better this time around. 

  
  
  


* * *

 


End file.
